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Date: September 26, 2018 Body of Water: Buzzards Bay and Cape Cod Canal Boat: Shore fishing only With: Alone Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: Noon - 6:40 PM Conditions: Strong southerly wind (>15 mph); big surf made the south-facing beaches unfishable. The morning drive from Boston to Falmouth, Massachusetts was pleasant but wet. I was a few minutes early for my planned arrival, and unbelievably, I'd not yet been to Dunkin' Donuts during the trip; that was remedied easily enough. I arrived at Uncle M's house at 10 AM and checked in. We discussed my plans for the coming days (I was there to find and catch false albacore!), and then I was off to Falmouth Bait and Tackle, where I purchased a few lures and sought advice. Todd and Christian there admitted that a tuna from shore in such conditions (strong wind, heavy seas and confused tides) was a tall order; but they directed me to Woods Hole and/or Old Silver Beach. Since neither of these locations were on my radar, I was grateful to them for getting me going, hopefully down a productive path. Woods Hole was just a few miles down the road. By now, it was almost lunch time, conditions were drying out, and the little town was busy. I drove up and down the waterfront several times, but I couldn't identify a place to fish that looked to be publicly accessible. I parked and walked; same result. There were several piers, but they appeared to be behind and associated with the Woods Hole Institute; and certainly, nobody was fishing. It was so tantalizing, though! A small boat with a couple of fly-rodders launched into the wind and motored across the harbor; I could sea a pile of birds tracking bait across the way. I silently wished them good luck, but also for their safety. I'd have not wanted to fly-fish with a partner in a tiny boat under such conditions. Meanwhile, my clock was ticking! I decided to abandon Woods Hole, and drove up to Old Silver Beach. Here, I found plenty of beachside parking, a small outlet from a salt pond, a few fishermen hanging out, and fishable conditions! The fishermen had encountered nothing this day, but had reports of both albies and bass from earlier in the week. The water was clear and weed-free, and there was some bait (peanut bunker) about. I fished from the surf and then from the stubby rock pier for over an hour. I threw the Kastmaster, skipped a Hogy epoxy jig, tried a couple of top-waters and swam the Diawa SP baits. Nothing happened. This was pleasant enough, but was not producing what I'd hoped for. One of the local fisherman had mentioned encountering a large school of albacore (that reportedly wouldn't eat) near the railroad bridge over the Cape Cod Canal the previous day. Off I went! The Cape Cod Canal is a truly specialized fishery, but I figured I could identify these funny fish if they were present. The tide was flowing from Cape Cod Bay to Buzzards Bay, and there were some other fishermen about. Here, I mostly threw the Diawa SP Bullet in mackerel pattern; I fished as if the Canal were a river, and as if I were targeting steelhead. Despite my efforts to identify and fish current obstructions, seams and eddies, I encountered no fish. Now on my way to the West Falmouth Harbor mouth, I saw a sign for Monument Beach. I scouted it out, but once again, public access was a little confusing and the small portion that I could access seemed constricted and lifeless. I didn't even fish here. The public beach at West Falmouth showed promise. While nobody was fishing, the beach was abuzz with kite surfers. The wind was still over 15 mph, the waves were still pretty big, and I thought these folks might be crazy; they were certainly crazed. Admittedly, so was I; just in a different manner. To each, their own. I hiked down the beach to get away from the activity, only to find a fair amount of mung in the water. It was fishable, but not efficiently. After just a dozen casts or so with the Kastmaster, I decided to cut my losses, go back to the fishable conditions at Old Silver Beach, and do my best there until dark. Exiting my vehicle at about 5:10 PM, I noticed a small group of birds hovering close to shore on the other side of the small channel. These were the closest active birds of the day! As I positioned myself on the short jetty, I convinced myself that there was dark mass of baitfish pinned against shore across the channel and just within casting distance. I casted my pink, 7/8-ounce Hogy epoxy jig to the edge of the imagined mass (landing no more than 15 feet from shore), engaged my reel, and before the jig reached the surface, I received a jolting strike. When I tightened up, the fish turned to sea and took a screaming run. Albie On! As I fought the fish, a truck crossing the outlet notice my bent rod and raced to park. The fisherman rushed out and waded into the school of bait while I continued fighting the tuna. When it was within a few yards of my feet, the line suddenly slackened; concerned with how to safely and carefully land the fish with the rising tide, already imagining the picture I'd send to my girls, I'd pulled the hooks. I'd lost my albie! I stayed for another hour or more. The bait had scattered, the birds had flown, and no other fish showed themselves. But I'd at least gotten a whiff of success, and I knew that my tactics and gear were up to the task at hand. My uncle and his wife were incredulous when I returned to their home. I was hot, messy and tired, fishless and yet still somehow satisfied with the day. *** Date: September 27, 2018 Body of Water: Falmouth Harbor outlet and Woods Hole Boat: Shore fishing only With: Alone Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: 6 - 9 AM and 11 AM - 5 PM Conditions: Winds had shifted to NNE and were less strong and persistent; clouds gave way to clearing skies Energized by the marginal success of the previous day, and gifted with more fishable conditions and the prospect of finding new water, I positioned myself by 6 AM on the short, eastern jetty at the south-facing mouth of Falmouth Harbor. As the morning awakened, I scanned the skies and water for signs of fish as I casted my now-favored pink Hogy epoxy jig. I was pleased to note flow from the harbor; I figured the outgoing tide offered the best chance to attract oceanic fish to this location. Conditions were generally slow; but over the course of the session I did have a chance to cast to four pods of albacore within casting range. One hyper-motivated but uncoordinated (or half-blind?) tuna crashed my skipping lure six or eight times on a single cast without touching the lure; this experience made my morning. I raised no other interest from the other pods; refusal was about to become another theme of the trip. Most of the action and visible fish (including several groups well out of casting distance) occurred between 7:45 and 8:30 AM; the published low tide for this location was 7:10 AM. The morning also produced one of my more quintessential Massachusetts Moments, ever, when a dude in the parking lot behind me yelled in his heavy local accent, in response to a seal swimming by, "Did you see that? Was that a f****ng whale?" Despite my lack of success, I noted the presence of some peanut bunker, the bottom-fishing success of a couple of fishermen across the outlet, the flowing water and the occurrence of a couple of half-hearted top-water swirls (bass? bluefish?) behind my skipping jig. Given fishable conditions, there was success to be had here. However, at 9 AM, having not even seen a fish in quite a while and with the outlet flow stagnant, I decided to go scouting for better, again. I checked out the other south-facing Falmouth beaches and Menauhant Beach to the east. These looked good, but for another time or day; there didn't seem to be any fish or fisherman activity at this time. I decided to try Nobska Point, where Woods Hole and Buzzards Bay meet Vineyard Sound. There were plenty of boats working this area, and plenty of moving water; but the sole parking area was full. After a few drive-by passes, I proceeded to Woods Hole, proper, to try to find a spot to fish, per the previous day's advice. It was now about 10:30 AM, and the town was sleepy. I parked the car and started to walk the waterfront. And there it was, in plain sight; behind one of the Institute's buildings and parking lots, in an area I'd assumed to be "off-limits" the previous day, was a rock jetty with a few fishermen. As I walked out to verify access, I noticed fresh blood on the rocks; one gent had just landed a 10-pound albie! I assembled my gear and quickly joined my new friends. For the next six hours, I happily casted to albies, bass and blues. Folks came and went; I stayed, ultimately working my way to the end of the jetty, where I could cast over the greatest area. The albie fishing was slow; the pier was only a collective 2 for 4 on albies during my visit. However, a dozen or more pods of fish showed within casting range. I think I had my chances; these fish were fussy, though. There were bass and blues to be caught, too. At Noon or so I caught a pair of Harbor Blues (3-pounders or so) on near-consecutive casts. These had both given chase to my pink, skipping Hogy jig. I forced them to bite by slowing down, just a scooch. These were fun and welcome on my light travel setup. But Albie Fever had taken hold of all of us; nobody was too interested in blues. Meanwhile, bass occasionally blew up on bait, usually along the seawall behind us. I spent some time with top-water plugs when these were most evident, and I had a nice blow-up on a new surface tension lure. I didn't hook up, and the albies returned behind me; we were all pretty committed to throwing skipping jigs and tins to the albies. The bass and blues just did not receive their due on this particular day. The early afternoon was very slow, but after 3 PM the fish activity really picked up. (Published Low Tide was about 5:30 PM for Woods Hole on this date.) After several more refusals on the pink Hogy, I down-sized to a smaller, 5/8-ounce olive Hogy, and quickly landed three more blues between 3:45 and 4 PM. Silversides and peanut bunker were thick at this time, and tuna were more frequently visible. I kept feverishly casting and retrieving! I had a dinner obligation; I kept trying to squeeze in another cast. It was tough to leave while tuna were showing. Near the end of my time for the day, a local seeking his first albie hooked up. His phone was out of juice; I was glad to take his picture and text it to him. But now, I really had to leave. It had been another good day, and I'd even caught some fish! After dinner, I prepped my gear for another day-long assault. Uncle M was going to join me; we'd never fished together! *** Date: September 28, 2018 Body of Water: Falmouth Harbor outlet and Woods Hole Boat: Shore fishing only With: Uncle M Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: 6:30 - 8 AM and 9:30 AM - 5 PM Conditions: Winds swung to the south and were generally mild; clouds became rain by 8 AM; heavy rain continued intermittently throughout the day My strategy for the day was to get Uncle M oriented with the tackle in the low-stress atmosphere of the Falmouth Harbor, and then utilize the predicted crummy weather to secure a spot on the Woods Hole jetty. Predicted Low Tide for Falmouth was about 7:50 AM; and the day's storms were predicted to start at about that time. The harbor was flowing out during our stay, but fish activity was minimal. I may have seen a single albie crash the surface well out of casting range; but I may not have seen this. It was a fleeting glimpse, at best. When it started to rain, we shifted gears. After a pastry and coffee at a local bakery, we re-visited Falmouth Bait and Tackle. A few themes emerged. These fish were currently finicky; if color mattered, blue was the current favorite; they could be on silversides, bunker or other bait; don't be afraid to go "big" with lures in the face of refusal; subsurface retrieves work, and if something isn't working, simply change it. Finally, luck matters! The empty peg hooks confirmed these thoughts as customers clearly hedged their bets against bad luck, but I still managed to find a suitable blue Deadly Dick and a pair of blue Crippled Herring-type lures that had the thicker profile of a peanut bunker. At about 9:30 AM, Uncle M and I joined the six or eight soaked fishermen on the pier. By 10 AM, the pier was engaged in a full-on tuna blitz. The catching was not fast and furious, but the tuna certainly were! Our lures remained untouched, but I noted that many of the pier's hookups were at the very end of casts and subsurface. The biters weren't chasing, they were reacting to the sudden presence of the bait. I also observed the contrasting styles of the fishermen. Many would wait for the appearance of fish on the surface before making the cast; others (like myself) were casting blindly, covering water, in the periods between appearances. I decided my best chance to catch one (especially with the increasingly noticeable pressure of my diminishing time) was to keep a lure in the water; but also recognizing that several pods appeared at our feet while my lure fished 50 or more yards out of position. I also dedicated myself to trying a greater variety of lures and retrieves, and so Deadly Dick, Crippled Herring, Kastmaster, Pencil Poppers, small and large surface tension lures and Hogy swim baits joined my Hogy epoxy jigs (both large and small) for both surface and subsurface presentations. The best action seemed to be just shy of predicted High Tide (which was about 11:10 AM). The mid-section of the pier was underwater for an hour or more; it seemed to be an extraordinarily high tide, and there was lots of moving water. The navigation buoys surrounding the offshore reef were variously tilted. The bait and tuna seemed to enjoy these conditions. Deluges of rain and fishermen came and went. Uncle M stuck with it until about 1 PM; we were still fishless for the day. We arranged for me to be picked up at 5 PM or so; I changed out my rain gear; he left and I continued my efforts. Skies were now clearing and soon after Uncle M left, a school of bass exploded on bait along the wall behind me. I tossed my 7/8-ounce Chicken Scratch (pink and green) Hogy epoxy jig into the fray. I retrieved it with twitches and slow falls, and for a few casts, the bass could not resist it! I quickly landed three, 20-inch bass; these were my first on these epoxy jigs (one of the local sharpies later told me that these jigs are killer for bass whenever sand eels, spearing or silversides are the primary bait.) Action then slowed until about 3:45 PM, but from then until I left at 5 PM, things really picked up. Low Tide was predicted for about 6:15 PM, so this represented the last half of the falling tide. Regardless, the bait had condensed, and bass, blues and tuna were busy harassing it. Several schools of tuna rushed along the pier at our feet, but nobody touched them. Meanwhile, I plucked two more bass and a couple of blues from the fray. These were all about 20 inches. They weren't the glamour fish I sought, but they were fun and they all pulled drag. A couple even smacked the Hogy on the surface when conditions were most frenetic. One blue, in particular, had me initially convinced with its airborne attack that I'd finally hooked my tuna. When the sizzling run never materialized, I knew better. What do I have to say about this? I'd worked hard and done my best. I was certainly engaged and having fun. The fact that I hadn't hooked my tuna was ameliorated by everything I'd learned. My approach was diversified and I was certainly in this game. Tangible success might come down to my last available session the next morning, but I knew that this had been a very successful trip already. *** Date: September 29, 2018 Body of Water: Woods Hole Boat: Shore fishing only With: Alone, but now with an assortment of local friends, all of whom shared the same Fever Target: False Albacore (blues and stripers, too) Time: 8:20 - 11 AM Conditions: Clear and bright; inconsequential wind from the north After a bit of a leisurely start, I was pleased to see that I could secure a place on the pier on what I expected to be a busy Saturday morning. Almost immediately, it was evident that the bait was in, thick. And between 8:45 and 9:30 AM, the action was full throttle. (This was about mid flood tide.) This turned out to be, by far, the best day for pier and kayak fisherman to catch these funny fish, but the tunnies were also at their showiest. While I never got touched (?!?!?!?!?!), it was still an inspiring morning. Most of the actual hooking still took place subsurface, and often by blind casters. But the tuna (and later, blues) were simply fun to observe. Sometimes, they were out of casting range, but often they were at our feet or against the seawall. These fish proved to be almost impossible to entice into eating a lure, but their energy certainly got one's heart pumping. I tried to ignore potential bass or blues during this session, as my time was now precious. I mostly threw Hogy epoxy jigs (large, small; bright, natural; skipping or subsurface; fast or faster), but I also mixed in blue Deadly Dicks and Crippled Herrings. I announced my last cast several times; and as I walked to the car, another round of tuna crashed the bait within reach. I fired off several casts from my new, shore-bound position and retrieved the Hogy through and across a massive school of peanut bunker. I saw several blues patrolling underneath. I couldn't trick anything with this abundance of bait. And so concluded my Inaugural Albie Chase. I can't say I was successful. But I can't say that I wasn't, either. What do I have to say about this? Given my concern with casting distance, time pressures, trusting my knots and available gear, I know I over-looked a couple of presentations. I really should have tried a subtle RonZ, Savage Sand Eel or Sluggo-type presentation. My casting distance would have suffered, but clearly, often these fish were right there and within easy reach. Next time, I'll have a broader perspective and be prepared for the finicky nature of these fish. My biggest concern for this trip had simply been their location, presence and availability; I'll continue to build my experience with proper presentation. I hope that experience continues to build in 2019! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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